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Chapter 5

"Sir, we have received intelligence that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed last night," said Agent Maria Hill as she approached Col. Nicholas Fury. They were currently at SHIELD Headquarters in New York City.

"You are behind on the news, Hill," stated the spy with the eye patch. "I was already informed of it. Who would have thought that children were Voldemort's kryptonite?"

"I shall reassign his status in the SHEILD's database as terminated," said Hill.

"No. Mark him as a lower threat. The entire thing seems extremely fishy," said Fury as he stared at the screens in front of him. "Put Harry Potter on the observation list."

"For the Avengers scheme, sir?" asked Hill.

"If only. The council will chew me raw if I recruit a two year old," said Fury. "Have you heard anything from the Longbottoms? I'm surprised they haven't contacted us."

The Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom were both members of SHEILD (Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division). They updated Fury on the workings of the Order of the Phoenix as well as on the happenings in the wizarding world.

"According to our sources, there was a Death Eater attack on the Longbottom's house. The Cruciatus Curse was used extensively on Frank and Alice. They are currently at St. Mungos, though the prognosis is that they will likely not recover," said Hill, her fists clenched. She and Alice were partners on certain assignments.

"We generally let the wizards handle their own problems. But we will step in when things get out of hand. Make sure your team monitors the situation in the wizarding world closely. I want to be informed of everything. You can leave," said Nick Fury. "Send Coulson in."

"Sir, there is also the Black incident," said Hill but Fury waved her off, "The Aurors have handled it. He isn't a threat for now."

Hill nodded and walked out of the room. Agent Phil Coulson took her place in front of Nick Fury.

"The satellite object which landed in New Mexico over twenty years ago has started giving off strange readings," said Coulson.

"The one in the shape of a hammer?" asked Fury, to which Coulson nodded. "When did it start behaving strangely?"

"Last night, sir," said Coulson. "This is the first sign of activity it has shown since it arrived."

"What are the odds that the British Dark Lord dies at the same time the hammer in New Mexico starts acting up," observed Fury, his brow furrowed.

"You think they are linked, sir?" asked Coulson.

"Coincidences don't happen," said Fury. "Get me all the information SHEILD has on the Potter family. There is definitely more to Harry Potter than just the scar on his head."

"What about the hammer?" Coulson inquired. He had been put in charge of the situation in New Mexico and finally he was on the verge of a breakthrough. "I think the signals the hammer is emitting are important."

"Spit it out Coulson. You are dying to say something," said Fury.

"I think we should contact the astrophysicists Jane Foster and Erik Selvig and request them to work on the satellite object. They already work in Puento Antiguo and they are pioneers in their field," said Coulson. "I believe they will be able to help us decipher the signals."

"I'm sure that they will be thrilled to work with SHIELD even though you stole their research," said Fury sarcastically.

"I merely borrowed it. Their findings on the Einstein-Rosenbaum Bridge were interesting," said Coulson, "If they were provided with the right equipment, they will do wonders."

"Fine," said Fury, "You have my permission to bring them into the New Mexico Facility. But I want results, Coulson."

"Yes sir," said Agent Phil Coulson as he took his leave, "I guarantee it."

"You better," said Fury under his breath, "Harry Potter, why do I have a feeling that you will give me more trouble than Tony Stark!"

Dumbledore made the final preparations for the Potters' funeral. The Ministry had wanted to make it a state occasion with dignitaries from all around the world ushering in to honour the family which brought the Dark Lord to his knees. The euphoria that Voldemort's alleged death had caused spread throughout the wizarding world. People were already proclaiming that it was the end of the dark years spent in fear. But Dumbledore was not foolish to believe that it was the end.

He believed Tom Riddle to be greatly weakened not dead. But even the shade of the Dark Lord was not as troublesome as the Death Eaters who were thirsty for revenge. Death Eater attacks were still rampant, but the Ministry insisted on holding the Potters' funeral soon. The funeral was to be used as a distraction for the public. A grand statue of the family was also set to be unveiled at Godric's Hollow. It strangely symbolised hope for even though the followers were still around, the leader was 'dead'.

Despite this peculiar optimism, the Longbottom attacks were fresh in Dumbledore's mind. He should have foreseen it. He should have insisted on them using the Fidelius as well. The once great Aurors were now confirmed residents of the Closed Ward in St. Mungos. It was unlikely that the couple would ever regain their sanity. Their son Neville, who was thankfully with his grandmother when the attack happened, was likely to remain with said grandmother for the rest of his formative years.

The Death Eaters were dangerous, but what angered him the most was Sirius Black's betrayal. He knew that there was a rat in the Order of the Phoenix; a spy who was helping Voldemort to evade his plans. He should have guessed that it was the Black heir, for he did come from an extremely Dark family. He was so happy when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. He thought he would be able to reform the child and ensure his loyalty to the Light. The added bonus was Sirius' attachment to the Potters. Of all the people to betray them, Sirius was the last person he would have suspected. He had even offered to act as Secret keeper for the Potters, but they were confident in their own plans.

He glanced at the empty shell that the Potter's house had become in Godric's Hollow as Remus Lupin morosely followed him from werewolf had lost his Marauder friends, two to death and one to the dark side. Dumbledore looked at him in sympathy as he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as Lupin burst into tears. He now had to guide both Lupin and Snape and ensure that they didn't fall into the darkness that their friends had. But, they had their role to play and sometimes, one had to sacrifice your best pieces in order to win the final war. He cared for his former students but as the Leader of the Light, he had a greater responsibility towards the wizarding world. He had to think for the greater good. His actions if governed by sentimentality would have greater repercussions on the world at large.

But Dumbledore did regret the loss of life especially those of his students. The Potters were so full of potential; they had their entire life ahead of them. Poor Pettigrew! He at least, was loyal to the family and confronted their betrayer, only to meet his own end. Of all the times the boy could have displayed his Gryffindor tendencies, he chose the wrong moment. He should have called for help instead of confronting Black alone. This confrontation resulted in Sirius Black blowing up the entire street, killing many Muggles. The only thing which remained of the wizard named Peter Pettigrew was his finger.

Dumbledore found the wand of Lily Evans lying in the corner of a room. He picked up the wand intending to place it in Lily's grave, so that the wand would finally rest with its owner. He looked around for James' wand and was astonished when he didn't find it. Where was James Potter's wand?

The last thing James Potter remembered was Voldemort casting the killing curse on him. His heart was paralysed and the fear that he was not able to save his family consumed him. Keep them safe was the mantra which rang in his head as he faced the dreaded Dark Lord. Lily had carried their son away as he desperately tried to distract his would-be murderer. He had hoped that his death had bought his family some time to escape. Green light was all he saw as he succumbed to the Avada Kedavra; his family being the last thing on his mind. Dying was surprisingly not as painful as he thought it would be while he retreated into his mind. His eyes closed and he fell to the ground.

At first, he was numb. He couldn't think, couldn't feel or hear. He knew that he should wake up but the feeling of calm was so tempting. Slowly, memories began to take root within his mind; memories of both Thor and James Potter. At first, he rebelled against the intrusion; he wanted to hold on to that peaceful feeling. However, reality set in and he began to fight to gain some sort of semblance of his scrambled memories.

Thor Odinson, the name had such an innate sense of righteousness to it. He was Thor but also James Potter as these two names began to spin in his head. His entire life blurred as he tried to reconcile the two. His two avatars were very different from each other. How did he land here? Where was his family? Where were his friends? Who was he?

His hand subconsciously called for his hammer; however all he could grasp was air. His mind slipped back into oblivion and he continued to float. This was abruptly interrupted by the cries of a child. He ignored it until he realised that he recognised that sound. Harry was calling out for him. As his father, he could not ignore the cries. He began to fight with all his might to overcome the fog which covered his sense. His efforts were strengthened by every sob which met his ear.

He could no longer hear his child's cries and that was a more frightening sound. The silence haunted him more than the tears did. He had to wake up. Harry needed him. Finally with a strong push, his eyes opened. With his hands on the bed, he pushed the upper part of his body into an upright position while his legs remained unresponsive. He looked around the strange room. He panicked when he realised that he didn't recognise the place. Where was he? But more importantly, where was Harry?

His heart gave an erratic beat when his brother entered the room, smirking at him.

"Well, hello brother," said Loki pleasantly, "Did you miss me?"

To Be Continued…

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